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Be-Bop, depression, Family LIfe, Writing

Forgiveness, Please Find Me

So, here I am the morning after writing a scathing lament about being alone with the brand new Baby Bump, my very own Porter Price, in the NICU. Here I am, washed out.  I hid out at a local coffee shop last night for a few hours.  I had words with Jared, to put it nicely.  I cried myself to sleep last night. I want to be a nice person, I really do.  But the reality is, I’m not.  I hold grudges.  I never forget anything, ever.  I rarely forgive. Here we are, seven summers after that NICU nightmare, and I still feel the pain like it’s happening right now.  I relive the fear.  I ache with loneliness.  I sorely miss the women on my messageboard who were my rock that summer. Once, that bitty alien baby was the baby in that scary picture I posted yesterday, the one where I was holding my firstborn for the first time and he was screaming from the pain of being cold.  I was just about as equally uncomfortable at the time, terrified I would hurt him. You know what my worst fear on taking Porter home was?  I was afraid of holding […]

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